Eradication
by DevilGearEffect
Summary: A/U, A band of outcasts come together to fight a greater threat. The Sentinels. Can they prevent their apocalypse? Violence/Language. Rating will eventually be raised to M as Suggestive Themes become part of the story and the violence becomes more graphic. Please review.
1. Outcasts

**A/N This story is an A/U, set in a contemporary version of Earth, where the X-Men and Brotherhood do not (yet) exist, they're not part of a larger Marvel Universe (so, no Avengers, Dr. Strange, FF etc.) and the rest you'll discover as the story moves on. I'm setting up my own canon (as it is AU) and this might be rated M eventually. Violence. Language. Multiple POV's.**

_Italic is thought._

* * *

New York. 03/07/2013

Anna Marie shook her head in disappointment, leaning against the kitchen counter. "Oh come on, sugah. It aint that bad, I aint gonna hurt anyone," she pleaded.

"No way Anna. I'm sorry, but your kind can cause problems that I just aint equipped to deal with. I'm a landlord, not a damn bodyguard," Ross told her, holding out an envelope. "I'm sorry. This is a refund for the rest of the month's rent. I need you to leave by tomorrow night."

The twenty-one year old swiped it from his hand and stormed past, blinking back her tears. _Three whole years since leavin' home and I still can't hold down one place. Not one, cause of everybody's prejudices. Fuck them. Fuck them all. _

Her gloves lay discarded on her bed when she entered her room, and she pulled them on with a sigh. Locking the door and grabbing her rucksack, she began to pack for another month on the put her music on as loud as it would go, attempting to block out the anger.

Once her clothes filled the majority of the rucksack, she showered and brushed her teeth, staring at her reflection and not hiding the disgust. _I'm a freak. I can't even touch people, I can't . . . I can't even be close to someone. I'm a disappointment. _

She shook her head again and put away the last of her things and shut off her music, before pulling on a zip-up, dark green and yellow hoodie and swinging her bag over her shoulder. She looked around her small room, the grimy window looking out over Brooklyn. A man sat outside, propping her hands over a small fire for warmth. The dancing flames cast a light that flickered across his harsh, lined features and a thick mane of blonde hair.

Anna turned away from the stained glass and made one last sweep with her eyes, but not finding anything discarded or forgotten. She opened the door and it slammed shut as she made her way back down the creaking stairs, but she gasped when she entered the living room.

Ross lay on the floor, surrounded by his own blood, the crimson slashed out across the furniture and TV, a terrifying red plastering the walls, floor and ceiling. She ran past his dismembered and gashed body, fear and panic blinding her thoughts as she barged out the building.

The streetlights flashed past she continued on, only stopping when she was so breathless her head was pounding. Her bright green eyes glanced around the empty street, realising she had no idea where she was or where to go; and she began to cry. Her entire body shook as she stumbled into a nearby alley and slumped against the wall, falling down to her knees and curling up against the cold, her tears pooling against her arm.

* * *

When her eyelids opened again, sunlight was cast down, the heat pressing against her like she were in a furnace. Two men sat nearby, one on each side of a disused coffee table, playing a game of cards. Once her mind kicked back into gear, it didn't take her long to realise that they too, were mutants.

One had blue skin and wore a stylish black coat, and a beanie pulled down over his ears. His eyes were yellow, and his hands only had three fingers each. Opposite, was a man that would blend into society much easier, with dark brown hair, light stubble and a torn trenchcoat. The only giveaway of being a mutant were that the pupils of his eyes glowed red, while the irises were a deep black.

They both looked over as she raised to her feet and they both smiled, to different effects. The blue man almost scared her, and would have if she'd met him her night before. The other man almost made her blush.

"Guten Morgen," the first greeted in a thick German accent.

The spoke with an equally thick accent, but he hailed from Louisiana. "Mornin' chere."

"Mornin'," she mumbled cautiously. "What're you doin'?"

"Texas hold 'em. Wanna go?" he offered, shrugging. "Oh, where are our manners? I'm Remy, this is Kurt."

"Anna Marie," she replied, walking over slowly and sitting beside them. "And I'll pass, thank ya though."

"You are not scared of my appearance, da?" Kurt asked, raising his brow. "So what can you do? Any human would have fled by now."

"I, um . . . I don't really wanna talk 'bout that," she said apologetically.

They both shared a look. "Well," Remy started, "just be sure to tell us soon, ya hear? 'Specially if you're taggin' along."

The blue man nodded his agreement. "Zweifellos. I for instance, can teleport in the blink of an eye. I even got into the Munich Circus, as _the_ _amazing Nightcrawler!_" he said gleefully, disappearing in a poof of smoke.

Remy laughed as her eyes widened and her jaw dropped. "Don' worry, tha' becomes less impressive the more he does it," he said, collecting his cards. "Now, ma turn."

He held up a card for her to see clearly and his entire eyes glowed red, as did the card, thin red lines moving through it like a web of hellish veins. They began to pulsate and he swept his arm, throwing the card to the opposite end of the alley; where it exploded against some bins and caused paper and half-eaten food to propel across the area.

Nightcrawler reappeared beside her as she paled. _They . . . they can go anywhere, they can . . . kill anythin'. They killed Ross. Now they're tryin' to finish me. Not gonna happen, sugah. _

She pulled off a glove as Remy turned back to her and whipped round to Kurt, placing hand on his face. She gasped as her abilities took effect; his veins becoming prominent as she absorbed everything that made him, him. His memories flooded into hers, his abilities becoming hers, his life draining away and adding to hers.

She let him go and turned round to a furious Remy, pulling out his deck of cards. She fought with Kurt's personality which now acted like an echo in her head, second-guessing her, stopping her from her launching an attack. It did not stop her opponent, however, who flung an explosive ace at her.

She disappeared, reappearing next to him and swinging in with a right hook. He realised too late what she had done and stumbled back as the strike connected with a thud. A memory slid into place however, from the night before and she paused, halting her next kick.

_They, they heard Ross' screams and followed me as I fled and they . . . protected me while I slept. Shit._

She and Kurt both held out their hands, causing Gambit to stop also. The blue man spoke quickly, "Remy, the woman is confused, can you blame her after last night? She found Sabretooth's work, she thinks we did it."

The cajun sighed, putting away the cards. "Calm down, chere. And . . . undo whateve' ya did. Ya don't suit blue," he said with a smirk.

She frowned and looked down at her hands and screamed as she did. They were a light shade of blue. "What in the name o' Jesus-fucking-Christ?!" she gasped. "This has never . . . I can't undo it."

"Whaddya mean?"

"It aint somethin' I flick on or off, it's somethin' that happens whenever I touch someone. The longer we touch, the longer I take . . . things," she moaned, looking at Kurt, who was the same light shade as her, contrary to the darker shade he had been previously. "Sorry, darlin'."

"Do not worry, Anna," he said softly, his gentleness surprising her due to his devilish appearance; which was now fully apparent now he'd removed his beanie; two pointed ears and gelled black hair on show.

She smiled and put her glove back on, while she continued to browse his memories. Her smile disappeared. "Don't pretend to be fully innocent, you little liar. You're thieves!"

"Well, c'mon now chere, tha's harsh," Remy scolded. "We're merely takin' what others don't need and . . . redistributing it."

"Redistributing?" she asked before more memories became apparent. "Oh. You give it away to mutants who need it."

"Yeah, we do. No need to be jumpin' the horse now is there?" he said, as his eyes glanced up.

She and Kurt followed his gaze and they both gasped. A robot stood in the only entrance to the alley, a hulking abomination of machinery and weaponry, it's head levelling with the fourth story of the buildings on either side. It's plating was thick, painted purple and black, emblazoned with the logo of a company: _Trask Industries._

It's blue headlights flashed to full brightness, casting a spotlight around them. "Mutants detected!" it announced to no one in particular. "Halt and surrender or face immediate execution."

"It's not illegal to be one of us!" she shouted back, curling her fists, but backing away.

"Don' bother, chere," Remy advised. "We've met these things before, they won' listen."

She sighed, staring at it in fear. "What do we do?"

"Fight then run," he growled, dashing forward and pulling out a small baton he'd had hidden under his coat. It extended into a staff and he used it to push off the ground and at the formidable machine, Kurt disappearing to start his own assault.

* * *

The lights in the club flashed and spun, creating a whirl of bright colours and vibrant flashes as the people danced, got drunk and stared slack-jawed at the woman on stage. She danced and sung, swirling in a tight, white outfit, using her abilities to create a light show that dazzled those around her.

The only mutant in the area that wasn't persecuted; her name, Dazzler, was the talk of Brooklyn. They let off her mutation, because frankly, it made a good show and the outfit she wore left little to the imagination.

Logan, however, did not enter the club for her light shows, he entered to save her life. His wild hair and rough clothing garnered him a few odd looks but they turned away again at his ferocious stare and muscled physique.

He rapped on the bar for a beer as he pulled up a cigar, lighting it and inhaling deeply. When he blew the smoke back out, the bartender shook his head.

"Excuse me, sir, you can't be doing that in here. Take it outside," he ordered.

Logan didn't even look at him. "Who's gonna stop me, bub? You?"

The man sighed as he set down the drink, took the mutant's money and stalked off. Logan watched the woman on stage, no grin plaguing him like the other drunk men that swarmed around her stage, pledging money, marriage and love to her.

He bristled at the sound of a Sentinel attacking mutants down the street. _Well shit, I better hurry. _He rushed through the crowd, discarding his beer but keeping the cigar between his lips. He snarled as pushed past the enamoured men and leapt onto the stage.

Dazzler scowled, her ice blue eyes narrowing. "Hey, asshole! This is my night, so fuck off before I light you up."

'Shut up, sweetheart," he growled, taking her wrist in an iron grip and pulling her off the stage's exit into the back area, and towards the fire exit.

She yelled out, but the grip he had on her wrist hurt so badly, that she couldn't focus to use her abilities. Didn't he realise how hard it was to run in a tight white outfit and high heels?

They burst through the door as a young woman sprinted towards them, her eyes wide. She had thick, long brown hair, the middle and fringe of which were white. Close behind her were a man with red eyes and . . ..

_A demon? Heh, don't see that every day. Guess these're the mutants being attacked by the . . . yup, there it is, _he thought as a Sentinel descended from the air, crashing to a stop between the two groups, its thrusters dying down.

"Okay, now I think I know why we left," Dazzler muttered, as Logan let go of her and flashes of light swarmed her. She extended both arms, palms flat and energy beams rippled through the air, striking the Sentinel and burning through it's armour.

Logan ran forward, his adamantium claws ripping through his hand and he leapt; using the claws to stab into and cling to the machine. He began to climb, ripping out wiring and machinery as he went. He paused as the demon appeared next to him, grabbed him and they disappeared. When they reappeared they were above the machine with another man falling toward its head.

Nightcrawler teleported, leaving Gambit and Logan to land on it, as Dazzler distracted it from below. His claws ripped through the head panels easily, especially with Remy charging up and destroying it from the other side, charred and torn metal becoming a more common sight with every second.

Logan swung down to hang in front of it's face and he stabbed its glowing eyes, tearing them out with a roar. He dropped as the entire head began to glow red, rippling with kinetic energy.

Gambit leapt after him and they were both caught by Nightcrawler, who teleported them mid-air, skidding to a halt at a safe distance away, where he'd already took Anna and Dazzler. He glanced back as the Sentinel's head erupted in a fiery explosion.

* * *

The red hair of Jean Grey rippled behind her like flames as she ran, closely followed by Scott Summers and Hank McCoy, her two closest friends. She followed the thoughts that blared within her mind, the other mutants that were under attack.

Soon, however, the thoughts calmed and simmered, bubbling with relief. They'd defeated whatever threatened them. They skidded to a stop before a beheaded machine, the top of its neck alight with embers and the rest of its armour burnt and damaged.

She focused, following the trail of their minds, but it was jagged; moving between locations far too quickly.

"They've got a teleporter," she told her friends as she turned. Scott sighed, his muscular chest heaving between breaths, his wavy brown hair rippling in the wind and his eyes hidden behind ruby sunglasses. Hank grinned, baring his fangs, his blue fur not moving, his breathing still steady.

"This'll be quite the experiment for our abilities then," he noted.

"You may look like a beast, but you've still got the professor's mind, Hank," she complimented, _only he would see this as an __experiment_. "How're we going to catch up to them?"

"They'll have to rest eventually," Scott said. "Let's get back to the car and follow."

The other two nodded their agreement and they began back to their vehicle, ignoring the stares of the clubbers who'd watched the events unfold in fear and awe.


	2. Welcome to the Sewers

**A/N Violence. Language. Review if you have any feedback for me to improve upon. Sorry for the delay but I have a lot of stories to write and I've got a lot of work IRL at the moment (Including mock exams for my GCSE's. Eek!).**

**Enjoy.**

_Italic is thought._

* * *

Nathan Grey charged, his hulking body armour weighing down on his already muscled frame, his boots pounding and unearthing the scorched ground as he sprinted. A voice yelled through the comms piece in his ear, begging him to stay, not to abandon them.

"I have to," he panted, scrambling under the beam of a sentinel. "If I don't leave now, our race dies today."

"If you leave now, I die no matter what," the woman whispered, as he looked up at his imminent doom. The machine was destroyed however, as his only other friend in this hellhole timeline -Erik Lehnsherr - began to tear it apart, the metal churning and twisting, bolts unscrewing and being flung away.

"I'm sorry, Ororo. Erik. It has to be done." His tears did not form, they never would. Cable never cried. He didn't plead, beg or cower. He fought: always being a soldier, a resistance fighter in a war - no - a genocide, that never should have occurred.

He would stop it.

_I have to._

Modern Day

Anna Marie followed the feral Canadian, looping and tearing through alleys and streets, hotly pursued by more sentinels. She had never felt more useless. Everyone else could damage the contraptions, but she could only use her abilities against living, organic, feeling things. But even so, even the group could not fight so many at once; or at least, they weren't foolish or confident enough to try.

He stopped, nostrils flaring, his head snapping around in search of something - what? She didn't know. He whipped round and pulled off a manhole cover, pointing down to the sewers. "Let's go."

They all had the look of trepidation like they wanted to argue, but with no arguments due to no alternatives, they made their way down. Hands grasping a grimy, cold metal bar, feet slipping on the wet and slimy rungs while they descended.

"Oh my god, I need a shower desperately," Dazzler whined, a petite cough echoing down to Anna, who sighed. _Urgh, y'all been pampered mu?_

"Can it," Logan growled, as they all hopped off the ladder and down onto a small pathway in the sewers. Murky water flooded past in a centre channel, with chipped stone and rusty grating acting as interlacing pathways.

Nightcrawler frowned and she followed his gaze to a symbol burnt onto the wall. It was difficult to make it out in the near-blackness, but it looked like a skull, with three eyes.

"What's that?" she asked, her hushed voice easily reaching these strangers in the eery silence.

"Oh, shit," Remy muttered as they glanced at the symbol. "We be needing to haul some mighty ass, right about now."

"What is it?"

"The Morlocks. They'll already know we're here. Best to escape 'fore they get here," he told the rest, his eyes glowing in the shadows.

"They have already arrived," hissed a voice from nearby, cloaked in the darkness, an unseen entity. "Why do you trespass he- Wait . . . you, with the red eyes, can it be? Gambit?"

A woman walked forward, a dirty green tank top clinging to a toned frame. Flame red, spiked hair rested atop a sharp face and daggered chin. Her black eyes narrowed at them.

"Marrow," Remy greeted cautiously, taking a step back. "We didn't mean no harm, jus' tryin' to avoid the death machines."

"Mm-hmm, where have I heard that before? Please Marrow, the humans tried to kill us, let us stay. What happened during your stay, Cajun? Hmm?" she asked, slithering forward and only stopping inches from him when Logan held out a hand. "What is it, animal?"

"Whatever problem you've got with the cajun can wait. We'll be gone in an hour at most, once things upstairs have died down, and you'll never have to worry about it again," he assured her.

"You make it sound like I'm here to discuss the conditions of your stay. You do not seem to contemplate the idea, the fact, that you have broken our rules. Outsiders are not welcome here, as Remy well knows, so, you shall be punished," she explained slowly, drawing out her words as if tasting each syllable on her tongue. "We'll talk soon."

Anna gasped as a whooshing sound led to a few small jabs in her neck, and she fumbled at her neck, drawing out the darts as the others were shot. Only Wolverine seemed resistant, his blurred form rushing about her vision, swiping and snarling.

Her eyes closed, welcoming the silky blackness.

* * *

Hank McCoy somersaulted, landing roughly next to the sentinel's leg, his fur ruffling as he roared and swiped; tearing away plating and wiring. It collapsed backwards, crashing down towards a building, from which many humans gathered at the windows, recording the fight with mobile phones. Jean snapped out a hand, visibly straining, her muscles tensing as she focused; using telekinesis to twist it toward the centre of the street and away from anywhere it would cause collateral damage.

_If I were a religious man, I would thank my level of violence though - however necessary - will only add sparks to the fire of mutant hatred stirred by Senator Kelly and ._

She sighed, dropping to a single knee as she breathed deeply to catch her breath. He rushed to her side, placing his large hand on her shoulder softly. "Jean? Are you feeling alright?" he asked.

_She needs to stop exerting herself. Her powers are only beta level at best._

"Fine. Just, never held something that large before. I'll be fine, I promise," she whispered. "Where's Scott?"

"I know no knowledge of where he is, but I bear the knowledge of where he will have went," he chimed, unabashed by their predicament.

"Hank?" she growled.

_Best not rile her up while Mr. Summers is off playing Action Man._

"The sewers. You said that's where those we followed fled, therefore it will be where he has charged off to. He has an addiction to heroism, one could say," the professor said calmly, backing off as she rose to two feet, shaking her head.

"Unfortunately, that is very true. Although some could argue the same for us," she joked, laughing a little. "Come on, he'll get himself hurt at this rate unless we catch up."

"Agreed." They ran for the sewers through the lashing rain, and once they'd removed the manhole, Jean used her telekinesis to fly them down, allowing them to close in on the sounds of conflict.

A mutant came leaping out the water, another skewered in front of him on three, sharp, metallic claws, coated in blood. His ragged black hair was matted over a furious face, snarling as he tore him apart.

_Oh wonderful, he looks like quite the pleasant acquaintance. _

"Are you quite done?" Hank asked, tilting his head, but raising his fists.

The wild man's eyes looked up at the manhole then back at them, his eyes lingering for too long on Jean. "You're with the Cyclops?" he growled.

"Scott? Indeed we are, and I bet he will adore that new pet name," the Beast chuckled. "Where is he?"

"He ran on as they dragged off the others. I'll rip their damned heads off."

"They? Others?" Jean asked, her eyes closed, focusing on nearby thoughts and minds. She trusted her mind to hear others more than she did her ears. "I see . . . Morlocks and . . . your other friends?"

"Not friends," he snapped in response. "But yeah."

_By jove, he is touchy. Lots of deep personal issues and buried psychological trauma no doubt, if he rejects personal attachment so swiftly. He'd be fascinating to evaluate. Later maybe._

"You are quite small for such a feral and aggressive man," Hank observed.

"Bite me furball," the _Canadian? _retorted. "We're wasting daylight, let's go already. Unless you plan on continuing to yap?"

"I do. But later, when we have less imperative issues at hand. Which way Jean?" he asked calmly, yet again.

"That way," she told him, finally opening her emerald eyes as she pointed west. "You can take the lead," she informed the small man. "Your sense of smell will mean I can focus on telekinesis instead of tracking them."

"How'd ya know I have a keen . . . what does it matter? C'mon," he muttered, leading them further into the labyrinth.

* * *

Scott knelt behind the crate, listening to the two thugs on the other side.

"You get the prisoners locked up?" the first asked, a wiry man with a colourful mohawk and an assortment of tattoos. _Freak. _

"Yeah, though Marrow's requested Gambit be sent to the arena 'stead of the cell. Also, the one with claws hasn't been brought in. He's been causing trouble all over the place, and now he's got two others with him," the man's heavyset partner gruffly replied.

"Who?"

"Some redhead - can't wait 'till we capture her. The things we could do - and some blue . . . beast."

_Grr. Asshole. Let's see what he can 'do' with me._

Scott inched sideways, hand at his glasses, ready to rip them off. He waited a few breaths, as they continued their conversation and then spun up, ripping off his ruby sunglasses and letting his solarbeam erupt from his eyes, disintegrating them within moments.

"Do what to her exactly?" he teased the ashes, before moving past and fighting his way down a few more corridors. He soon arrived outside a bulky steel door, latches rusty and moss growing over parts of it.

He singed the hinges off the door before kicking it down, crushing one of the Morlocks, as another dashed towards him. Scott rolled under the man's first fiery punch and backed off a few steps. The man's hands and arms were alight with roaring flames.

_Heh, like that'd cause a problem._

He whipped off his glasses and the man was burnt down to a scorched skeleton.

"Ew," a soft voice whispered.

He turned to the prisoners chained to the wall. The one who had made the sound appeared to be one of only two awake. _The marks on their necks . . . tranquilised. _The woman was in a tight, dancing outfit. He knew her of course, as did most people in the area. Dazzler, the living light show.

Two mutants over, a blue, demonish man was staying eerily silent, his eyes watching the skeleton as his lips made small movements.

"Are, you okay?" Scott asked the man, as he blasted off their chains.

"What?" the demon blearily wondered, his eyes skating up. "Oh, yes. I was just praying."

"For him? No need, that asshole doesn't need forgiveness."

"Not for him," he merely said in a thick German accent.

_For me? Why?_

"Um, okay . . . what can you both do?" he asked quickly, needing to formulate a plan.

"I can turn sound into light," the woman said.

"I can teleport within line of sight, cling to any surface and perform unnatural feats of agility," the German added.

"Well then, we can return quickly to collect your friends later. For now, we need to focus on the leader of the Morlocks, Marrow, they have . . .Gambit, is it?"

"Indeed. My friend. We must get him back."

"Then let's go," Scott ordered turning to the door, where there stood a feral-looking small man, Hank and Jean.

"Without us, bub? Not a chance," the small man growled. "Let's get going already, time's a wastin'."


	3. Skeletons in the Closet

**A/N Reviews would be appreciated if you have any useful feedback, thank you. Violence, (minor) torture and heavy language. Enjoy.**

**Also, the way Rogue and Gambit's voices are written has been slightly changed minorly. More ah instead of I for her, and dem and da's for him.**

_Italic is thought._

* * *

"Where are they?" Marrow whispered, her lips parting inches from Remy's ear, the bone that extended from her finger cutting another gash along his bare chest as he panted. "Where are the Marauders?"

"How would I know? Me and they parted ways a times ago. That's why me and Kurt were here in da first place, following Sabretooth," he explained once again, the futility of his words evident to all those present. That being Marrow and her superior, Callisto.

_He's been leavin' bodies all along da place. I'd bet my ace o' spades he was after Rogue herself, not her landlord. He's still with da Marauders, still huntin' his own for money._

_Still what I used to be._

Marrow's black eyes flickered up, meeting Callisto's, but the eyepatched, dark-haired terrorist shook her head. "Lies," she hissed. "No more lies, Remy."

The Cajun's back arched as the bone cut deeper, the crazed woman smiling to his pain.

* * *

Anna Marie's eyes opened blearily, trying to make out what little there was to see nearby. She shuddered when she spotted a burnt skeleton, wishing it not to be one of the others. She looked around, to find them gone, but two other people chained with her. A tanned woman with flowing white hair and a slender, asian man.

The woman was too far to touch, but the man had been chained directly next to her, and she nudged him awake. "Hey, sugah, get up," she urged him.

He turned to her. "What? Where are we?" he asked.

"The sewers, captives of the Morlocks," she rushed out, "they've got my friends, can you get us out of these chains? I need to find them."

He nodded and smiled. "But of course, fire can burn even the toughest of metals." Flames sparked in his hands, swirling over his chains and singing them apart. Soon he had done the same for her, and then, the newly-awake tanned woman.

* * *

Wolverine growled as he swiped, tearing down the door and leading the charge, but he had to hide the surprise at what they'd found as they'd explored: An entire slum under the streets, stretching miles, ridden by plague and violence.

He pushed a thug out of his way and kicked down another, but one with green skin shot out a tongue, wrapping it around his arm and yanking him back. A blazing red beam cut through the tongue, and the toad-like man fell back and cried out. Logan ignored him and Cyclops, who'd stopped him, and continued their ongoing attack.

Another of the Morlocks fell in front of him and he glanced up as Nightcrawler teleported, from where he'd dropped the now cold body. The feral man rolled under a punch from a muscular, scaled man, and growled. "Come on then, bub," he taunted.

A flurry of lights erupted around the man's head, causing him to stumble and swipe, cursing at his other, unseen, aggressor. Dazzler ran past, heading to help Jean as Logan lunged at the man, impaling his chest with a sickening crunch.

A rumble began to stretch the length of the tunnel, the water rippling and spurting madly, the walls cracking and everyone paused, glaring up at the roof. A piece fell, crushing a Morlock. The opposing groups needed no warning to run, instead relying on teleporters to escape. Or at least the Morlocks did, the land-dwellers merely looked around for Nightcrawler, finding he and Cyclops unconscious nearby. The Morlocks were already gone when they realised they were trapped, it would be up to the others to free Gambit, they were about to encounter much more pressing matters. They waited as the blows continued to rack up against the rooftop, rays of streetlight piercing the dim tunnel.

Finally, a large mechanical fist slammed through the roof, and three Sentinels ripped their way in. "Mutants, halt. Cease aggression or face imprisonment," one warned.

Without reply, the mutants attacked, but it would be to no avail.

* * *

Gambit glanced up at the sound of distant explosions, as a small boy with gills ran into the room. "Callisto! Callisto!"

"What is it?" she snarled in exasperation, turning away from the bloody corner Marrow and Gambit occupied.

"The Sentinels have found us," he whined, wringing his hands.

The two women froze, Marrow ceasing her torture of the cajun. Gambit whistled, smiling through gritted teeth. "Well now, the enemy of my enemy is my friend, is it not?" he suggested.

"It is not," the women replied in unison, leading the boy out of the room to prepare their defences and counter-attack. His smile faltered as a hooded figure entered, wearing dark robes and holding a candle for light.

He tilted his head. "Now you see, mon ami, those girls, Remy had no knowing what they were capable of. But, jus' you, by your lonesome? Remy can take you," he whispered, straining against the handcuffs that bound him to a rusty pipe and ripping them apart.

The hood dropped, and a strong woman, with brown and white hair smiled. "Now, now, sugah, ah ain't lookin' for a rumble," Rogue scolded, silently impressed with his display of strength. "Let's get movin'. Ah've got back up waitin' to fly us outta here."

"The others?" he asked, grabbing his staff and playing deck from the ground and following her out.

"Not . . . exactly. Kurt is here, but the others were taken by Sentinels. Ah've found three others though, who could help us get out, two of 'em can even fly," she explained. "Names're Scott, Ororo and Shiro."

"Wait . . . Shiro?" he lamented, shaking his head. "You set him free?!"

Rogue glanced back. "He freed me, why? What's wrong, Remy?"

He answered numbly, only telling her that he was "dangerous and untrustworthy", but his mind flashed back three years:

Remy darted through the crowd, helping Shiro, known then as Sunfire, mow down Morlocks by the dozen. Watching Shiro mow down a child however, is what snapped Gambit back into perspective, pulled him from his pit of grief and rage. He turned on Sunfire, allowing the Morlocks to capture him but fled before he met the same fate.

He and Rogue stopped, her eyes watching him as she pulled off the disguise and blew out the candle. "So, you have history then? Great. Jus' stay quiet and I'll fly you out."

"You can fl- you touched him?" he asked.

"No, Ororo, an elemental. Amazing woman, if her mind is any show," she told him.

They stepped into the next chamber, where Ororo, Kurt and Scott stood, but no Sunfire. He'd fled, they were told, leaving them all to fend for themselves when he found out Remy was here. _Good riddance._

"Let's find somewhere safe, then we can come up with a plan," Scott suggested, automatically taking leadership, as was his natural instinct. "We need to find the Sentinel's base of operations, and break them all out."

"A little revenge would not be uncalled for, I presume?" Ororo asked.

"Course not, but first, we need to bail," Remy replied, holding out and arm to Anna. "Lead the way, chere."

* * *

Jean awoke strapped to a medical bed and sighed thinking she must be laid in hospital, Scott having saved her, but when she opened her eyes, she instead found a grimy lab, a place used for experiments. She screamed and tried to use her abilities, but needles stuck into her arm seemed to be injecting her with a serum she didn't recognise; even after eight whole years as a Doctor at New York Primary with Hank. It must've been neutralising her abilities.

A door slid open out of view, footsteps approaching her from behind and she desperately tried to look around. She didn't manage but a face soon hovered over her own.

"Trask?" she growled, "you've been toeing the line before, but this is too far, the UN will step in."

"No they will not," he said calmly, shaking his head. "As they are dead. They met today, and I flooded the conference with gas. It was far too easy."

She paled further. "No, noononono, you . . . you monster!"

"Not monster," he sighed, as the lights flicked off. When they clicked back on, another man stood over her, with white skin, black tattoos, red eyes and slicked back hair. "Just . . . Sinister."

He spoke with Trask's voice and still wore the same blood-stained lab coat. _He's a mutant, a shapeshifter, but why hunt his own kind?_

Her thoughts were interrupted as her vision began to blur and her body fell numb. "Sorry, Miss Grey," he drawled, "but for brain operations, the subject has to be awake." He pulled up a scalpel, and grinned evilly.

He glanced back in annoyance as the door slid open again. An asian man appeared at her side, not even sparing her a look. They talked in muffled voices,, before turning and walking out.

"Later, Miss Grey, I will return," Mr. Sinister called as he left.


End file.
